


I'm not insane.

by Beth_Can_Write



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-26 08:26:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Can_Write/pseuds/Beth_Can_Write
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No-one believes when John says Sherlock is alive, but he has reasons to believe. Texting a dead man isn't the thing for sane people to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Voicemails on a dead mans phone.

**Author's Note:**

> this is in progress, the first half of this chapter are just a bunch of voicemails about johns life for a few years. updates may be slow as i've just started a new school.

“If this is Lestrade, whatever ridiculous case you have if it is not a murder then I am not interested since I am currently trying to stop a master criminal for you. If it’s John, bring home some milk. We always seem to be out. And Anderson, try not to break anything when you hang up the phone.” ~beep~  
“Hi, I bought home the milk, of course you wouldn’t know that. You weren’t here to drink any of it. People are still saying you’re a fraud. Of course I take no notice because I knew you, Sherlock. You hated it when you let anyone die on our cases so you wouldn’t go around killing people, I just know it. In those rare moments when I saw you between cases and beating boredom I knew that you were vulnerable. I never told anyone that though. You couldn’t let the sentiment show. Well bye.”

“If this is Lestrade, whatever ridiculous case you have if it is not a murder then I am not interested since I am currently trying to stop a master criminal for you. If it’s John, bring home some milk. We always seem to be out. And Anderson, try not to break anything when you hang up the phone.” ~beep~  
“You know, I can’t quite believe it. I can’t believe you died. I made you coffee this morning. Black, two sugars, just how you liked it. It’s been two weeks, can’t you just stop this? Stop being dead. I ended up having two coffees and going to work on a caffeine high, it worked at keeping me awake though, sleeping has been a problem since you left.”

“If this is Lestrade, whatever ridiculous case you have if it is not a murder then I am not interested since I am currently trying to stop a master criminal for you. If it’s John, bring home some milk. We always seem to be out. And Anderson, try not to break anything when you hang up the phone.” ~beep~  
“I met a lady at the surgery today, she said heard of you and she was sorry for my loss, I told her that you weren’t a fraud and she believed me. I might see her again, I hope you don’t mind me leaving these messages because I’m going to keep doing it.”

“If this is Lestrade, whatever ridiculous case you have if it is not a murder then I am not interested since I am currently trying to stop a master criminal for you. If it’s John, bring home some milk. We always seem to be out. And Anderson, try not to break anything when you hang up the phone.” ~beep~  
“She came in again today, her name’s Mary Morstan. She’s pretty, intelligent too, you would have liked her. Well, she’s coming round so I’m going to go make dinner, your favourite, feel free to come back and have some. I miss you.”

“If this is Lestrade, whatever ridiculous case you have if it is not a murder then I am not interested since I am currently trying to stop a master criminal for you. If it’s John, bring home some milk. We always seem to be out. And Anderson, try not to break anything when you hang up the phone.” ~beep~  
“It’s been 3 and a half months since you died, I’m dating Mary now and it’s going well. I’m going to ask her to move in, since she’s always here anyway. She’s my best friend, Sherlock, and she’s here for me. Please come back though.”

“If this is Lestrade, whatever ridiculous case you have if it is not a murder then I am not interested since I am currently trying to stop a master criminal for you. If it’s John, bring home some milk. We always seem to be out. And Anderson, try not to break anything when you hang up the phone.” ~beep~  
“She said yes, she’s moving in. She said we’d have to get rid of a few things but I kept most of your books, the moose and the skull. The severed head went ages ago, along with your science stuff... I haven’t been in your room, neither has she. And she won’t. I’ll leave it alone, you would have liked it that way.”

“If this is Lestrade, whatever ridiculous case you have if it is not a murder then I am not interested since I am currently trying to stop a master criminal for you. If it’s John, bring home some milk. We always seem to be out. And Anderson, try not to break anything when you hang up the phone.” ~beep~  
“6 months since you left, today’s the moving day. I really love her, Sherlock. I still miss you, please come home, you’re my best friend. Lestrade keeps coming to me with cases but I can’t solve them, I’m not you. I’m still working at the clinic too.”

“If this is Lestrade, whatever ridiculous case you have if it is not a murder then I am not interested since I am currently trying to stop a master criminal for you. If it’s John, bring home some milk. We always seem to be out. And Anderson, try not to break anything when you hang up the phone.” ~beep~  
“I can recite your message memory by heart. Nobody knows I leave these messages, except your phone. But then never get listened too, do they? Well, it’s been a year, the messages have been scarce recently because there’s always been someone around, I fell ill for a bit and they all wanted to look after me, this is the first time I’ve been alone in a while, even in the hospital.”

“If this is Lestrade, whatever ridiculous case you have if it is not a murder then I am not interested since I am currently trying to stop a master criminal for you. If it’s John, bring home some milk. We always seem to be out. And Anderson, try not to break anything when you hang up the phone.” ~beep~  
“I’m going to ask her to marry me. It’s been a year since we met, that’s the right amount of time, yeah? Well, I’ll do it tonight, I have the ring and everything. If she says yes I think Greg will be my best man. I would like to ask you but I can’t. Talk later, Sherlock.”

“If this is Lestrade, whatever ridiculous case you have if it is not a murder then I am not interested since I am currently trying to stop a master criminal for you. If it’s John, bring home some milk. We always seem to be out. And Anderson, try not to break anything when you hang up the phone.” ~beep~  
“She said yes! We’re going to get married, next year, exactly two years after we met, good idea, right? I still miss you, please, if you’re out there find some way to come, I don’t care if you’re a ghost, just watch me marry, please.”

“If this is Lestrade, whatever ridiculous case you have if it is not a murder then I am not interested since I am currently trying to stop a master criminal for you. If it’s John, bring home some milk. We always seem to be out. And Anderson, try not to break anything when you hang up the phone.” ~beep~  
“She’s chosen her dress, I’ve chosen my suit. It’s next week, Sherlock. You died two years and 2 months ago.”

“If this is Lestrade, whatever ridiculous case you have if it is not a murder then I am not interested since I am currently trying to stop a master criminal for you. If it’s John, bring home some milk. We always seem to be out. And Anderson, try not to break anything when you hang up the phone.” ~beep~  
“I miss you, Mary wants to meet you.”

-O-

Sherlock listened to every message the moment they came through on his phone, it killed him that he couldn’t say something back. Each time his fingers clutched around the mobile and he listened over and over, memorising Johns voice. He didn’t like Mary, she wasn’t good enough for John. He knew he’d return home, he saw no reason why she should be there too.

Eventually Sherlock took the decision of changing his message, only slightly.

-O-

“If this is Lestrade, whatever ridiculous case you have if it is not a murder then I am not interested since I am currently trying to stop a master criminal for you. If it’s John, bring home some milk, thank you. We always seem to be out. And Anderson, try not to break anything when you hang up the phone.” ~beep~  
“I miss you, it’s been years, Sherlock. Why did you do it without giving me a reaso—Wait. Your message changed, I’m sure that the thank you wasn’t there. I’ve left messages every week for the past three years, your message has changed, where are you?”

-O-

“John, what do you mean he’s alive, he’s not.” Mycroft shook his head, Sherlock couldn’t be alive, “He couldn’t elude us for three years, we would have seen him.” Mycroft said simply.

“No, he changed his—“ John cut himself off when he remembered no-one knew about those messages, “Just, believe me, he’s alive, please go look for him.” He pleaded.

“Love,” Mary’s hand rested on Johns shoulder and she leaned into him, “Love, come on, this is ridiculous, he can’t be alive.” She said softly, “Let’s go home, yeah?”

“No!” John snapped, recoiling away from her touch, “He is alive, just go look for him, please!” 

‘John, drop it, they can’t know I’m alive. –SH’

John looked at the text and was about to show it to Mycroft when another one came through.

‘If you want me to come back then they have to believe I’m dead. -SH’

John held his phone to his chest then and looked from Mary to Mycroft before taking Mycrofts hand, “Okay, he’s dead then,” he shrugged nonchalantly, just wanting to get home so he could text the man who he believed was dead for years. 

“Thank you, love. Home?” Mary smiled and pulled him to the door, “Bye, Mycroft.” 

“Mary, I need to talk to you, actually, John can wait outside.” Mycroft said as he steepled his fingers below his chin. 

“Okay, I’ll be back in a second,” Mary smiled and walked out with John, kneeling down in front of his as he sat on the chair, “Love, you know he can’t be alive, right?” She asked. To which John nodded, not wanted to openly lie to his wife. She smiled back and pulled him into a light kiss, “I’m glad, I love you.” She smiled, “If you want to go home then you can, I’ll meet you there.” 

Mary walked into Mycrofts office and sat at the table, smiling at him sweetly as she fiddled with her bracelet, a present from John. 

“Look after him, I fear my brother’s death really broke him, he seems to really believe Sherlock is alive, he might be seeing things, if he keeps up with the notion then call me.” Mycroft lifted some pamphlets out of his drawer, ‘mentally unstable care home’ was what most of them read.

She looked at them, her face aghast, before looking at Mycroft. He seemed to genuinely care so she nodded, “What sort of behaviour shall I look out for?” She asked lightly. 

“I don’t know, talking to himself, texting himself, going off a lot on his own.” Mycroft shrugged, “But you know that Sherlock can’t be alive and so does he, he just wished otherwise.” He smiled softly and leaned back in his chair.

“I know, Mycroft, I’ll make sure he drops the idea, he just wants it so bad.” Mary sighed sadly and looked down at her feet, the golden brown flesh beneath the pink fabric.

“Good, Sherlock would want me to keep him safe.” Mycroft took a deep breath in, “John’s has gone home, if you want a ride there then---“ Mary cut him off with a polite no.

“I prefer to get taxis,” She said with a shrug.

-O-

The minute John left Mycrofts building he got his phone out.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you’re alive? –JW’ he sent quickly.

‘Because, it’s safer like this. –SH’

‘Safer?! I don’t care about safety, I can look after myself. –JW’

‘Against trained assassins? You wouldn’t know they were there and they would kill you. –SH’

'Well, you should have told me! -JW'

'I couldn't, and no-one else can know, okay? -SH'

'Okay, come home soon though, please. -JW'

'I will. -SH'

'Promise. -JW'

'Promise. I miss you too. -SH'


	2. Chapter 2

Weeks passed normally from then on, John knew Sherlock was alive, knew that the man would be coming back to him. He loved that idea and his smile was real from then on. He had a spring in his texts and grinned everytime he got a text from Sherlock.

“Who’s that?” Mary would ask. And John would shake his head.

“No-one.” He’d say before smiling and replying.

Mary noticed the change too, when Sherlock first fell John was defeated, utterly alone once again and Mary pulled him out of the solitude. But not completely. He still never went to St. Barts unless he had to. He never read fairy tales anymore and his blog was desolate. He stopped going to therapy and stopped watching the news for murders. He even skipped over most of the stories in the newspapers.

It shocked Mary when he picked up a newspaper and spent time reading all the stories, when she flicked through later she noticed three proving Sherlock's innocence on that particular case. John never read those ones, it hurt too much to know that Sherlock wasn’t a fake, but he died like one.

Slowly things started returning to Baker Street. Sherlock's skull was the first thing to reappear on the mantelpiece. Then the headphones went back on the moose. John went into Sherlock's room, read his books, sat on his bed and knew that Sherlock would lay there again at some point. He had hope once again and it was scaring Mary.

John sometimes left the house randomly, no warning he just stood up and walked out, around London. He went to Angelo’s again, and the museum. He went swimming again and looked at Buckingham Palace. He let his mind wander as his feet did. After taking a weekend trip to the same B&B they stayed in near Baskerville with Mary there was only one place left.

He went to St Barts just days later. It was a Wednesday, late spring. He stood leaning against the bus shelter, looking up at the roof as he had all those years ago. He was just about to leave when something caught his eye. A flickering of paper in the telephone booth. As he walked over he found himself biting his lip as he read the messages.

‘I believe in Sherlock Holmes’ was what most of them read.

A few said ‘Moriarty was real’

Then there was one, stuck between a scrawled drawing of Sherlock's deerstalker and a ‘#MoriartyWasReal’

‘John, never give up hope. I know Sherlock was real and you should too. Don’t remember him jumping, or the fights you had. Remember the cases and soon you’ll meet again.’

There was no name but John would recognise that scrawl anywhere. He took a picture of it and immediately made his way home. When he got there Mary was cooking dinner she he gave her a kiss before running to Sherlock's room. He had to have written on something in here, had to.  
When John found a book with Sherlock's hand writing in the front he got the picture back up.

It was him.

Johns eyes widened and he grinned at the phone.

“What are you doing love?” Mary asked, leaning against the doorframe to Sherlock's room.

“Nothing, I just had a hunch.” He deleted the photo, the exact words were already stored in his memory, and turned to face Mary. “It was wrong.” He murmured before moving to kiss her, grinning as he did so.

Sherlock was definitely alive and definitely coming back.

-O-

“John, we need to talk.” Mary said on a warm summer evening.

John looked up from his phone, halfway through a text to Sherlock. “Just let me finish this text.” He said quietly, turning back to his phone.

Sherlock would be returning in a matter of months, he promised, and they’d been texting non-stop for the past few days. Each time he was asked he would say it was no one.

“Okay, talk.” John smiled up at her and pulled her onto his lap. He’d had a few days off and was barely apart from Mary, he loved being with her.

“John, this is serious, who do you keep texting?” she asked, biting her lip as she looked nervously away.

“I keep saying this, Mary, it’s no-one. Why?” John asked, eyes narrowed.

“I’m worried about you. Molly said she saw you outside St Barts, you never go there, and you’ve been texting someone, who is it?”

“Mary, please don’t, it will all be explained soon.” He said lightly, looking out of the window of Baker Street.

“I’ve been talking to Mycroft,” Mary sighed and John rolled his eyes, about to say something but cut off as Mary continued, “He said that he thinks you may be compensating for Sherlock being dead by pretending he’s alive...”

“No I’m not!” John defended quickly, his eye brows furrowing.

“You could be, he’s not alive, John, he’s not coming back.” Mary shook her head.

John opened his mouth to speak but no words came out, Sherlock made him promise not to tell anyone, and he had promised. He couldn’t tell them. That wasn’t the only reason. He looked down to his coffee, Mary made it. He then looked up to her, leaning back at fatigue filled him.

“I’m sorry John.” She whispered as he fell into a deep sleep.

-O-

It had all been Mycrofts idea, drugging John so he would come easily, it was all Mycrofts idea but John blamed Mary. Mary went along with it; Mary thought he was insane as everyone else did. When he woke up he was in a strange room, people coming and going with food. It was bare, with just a bed and sheets.

There weren’t any metal coat hangers, just plastic ones. A plastic cup with a single toothbrush sat on the sink and John was laying in the bed when his eyes woke. The humming of the light filled the room and he bit his lip as he stood up, a thumping in his head. There was a knock at the door as he stood, of course they were monitoring him so they would know.

His eyes narrowed, “Come in.” He croaked before reaching for yet another plastic cup and filling it with water from the plastic jug. So much plastic.

The door opened and a female nurse walked in, “John?” She asked, to which John nodded. “You’ve been admitted because your family think there is something wrong with you and you may be a danger to yourself or those around you. What’s dead should stay dead, Mr Watson.” She said before looking at her chart. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been admitted? Where am I?” he asked, confusion clouding the centre of his mind.

“You’re in Rusty Oaks home for the mentally disabled.” She said lightly, “Don’t you remember?”

“No, I was last in my flat with my wife, we were drinking coffee and talking.”

“Yes, Mary? She brought you here.”

“She did?” Johns eyes narrowed.

“Yes, she did, she cares very much for you. Don’t you remember waking up before?”

“No, I don’t.” He shook his head and looked at her, “I just remember falling asleep.”

“Well, you woke up a few hours ago and started fighting with the male nurse, said something about him leaving you to deal with it. We had to sedate you again.” She said, frowning slightly. “Something about his hair, it’s black and curly.”

“Sherlock's hair.”

“Ah, yes, he is why you were admitted, he’s dead and you seem to believe otherwise?” she asked.

“No, I don’t.” John shook his head as the lie just tumbled from his lips, “Why would I think that?”

“Well, those who admitted you think you did.”

“Where’s my phone?”

“It’s in a bag in reception, you can’t have it until we believe it’s safe for you to re-enter the normal day-to-day routine. I’m sorry.”

“But, I’m not insane.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is John really insane? He may be starting to believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't been posting much, I moved house and I got some bad feedback and I only just thought 'well screw them' and then I decided to update a few things. The tenth chapter of a womanly touch is coming up soon, I just need to figure out what's going to happen, if anyone wishes to read it and help then please do so!:)

Sherlock kept texting, he sent a text every day and didn’t understand why John didn’t reply, he always replied. He couldn’t ask Mycroft, it still wasn’t completely safe for him to be alive, to come out and show people that he was still breathing.

He fell back in the usual routine, from before he changed his message, destroying the web and putting his concentration into only that. He was done quickly and he knew it would be safe so, exactly 3 years and 3 months after he died he came back. 

Sherlock Holmes had been dead to the world until he knocked on the door on that cold night.

-O- 

3 months before

Johns daily routine was always the same. Up, shower, he couldn’t shave unless someone was there so that happened every other day, he would then have breakfast in the communal room. He would be forced into that days activity and would always participate, ruefully. He sometimes went on the computer, heavily monitored so that he wouldn’t google Sherlock. Then it was lunch which he would eat outside with Mary on hot days or in his room with Mary on cold days. 

Mary came every day for lunch with John, always with an apologetic look, hating how conversation was stilted after the usual ‘hi, how are you?’ was over. 

Then it would be a group session talking about why he’s there. He always said the exact same thing. 

“I’m John,” followed by a chorus of hi John, “I’m here because my best friend... Sherlock Holmes, you may have heard of him... my best friend isn’t dead.” His therapist would then shake her head and write something.

Dinner would come afterwards and he ate in the communal area again, as usual. 

Then evening fun would start, with an abundance of tv and games in the game room. He was monitored throughout the day, they all were. The only time he didn’t have some hawk eyes therapist peering over his shoulder was when Mary came over.

Thursdays were different. The usual routine was replaced with a trip out in the morning and one to one therapy in the afternoon. He didn’t get to eat lunch with Mary on Thursdays and he never got to watch the news in the evenings. 

On this particular Thursday he was glad, he’d managed to plan an escape, a way out. He didn’t notice the date would be the anniversary of Sherlock's fall and so he planned it perfectly to go without a flaw. 

They went to the park, it wasn’t that cold and they certainly were a sight to see, all traipsing along with their Rusty Oaks t-shirts and therapists.

“How are you feeling today, John?” Miss Jacklin asked. They had split off into twos, everyone with their therapist and just their therapist. John was her only patient and so they walked slowly through the park.

“Tired. And I need to go to the toilet.” He walked off in the direction of the public toilets, his bag close to his side. When he got there he wrenched it open, he’d managed to take a cap from a little boy on his way here and one of the t-shirts he wore day to day, a nice jumper of his. He pulled the jumper on then put a cap on his head. When he cam out she had turned around to look at something else so he ran.

He ran behind the toilets, the opposite direction to her and straight out of the park. He had nowhere to run to though, he only had a little bit of money and he couldn’t stay back at Baker Street. He checked the time on the clock and grinned, Mary would be at work.

John then ran to his flat, he found his wallet and phone quickly before packing a bag and walking out again. Mary would know what happened as soon as she got home, he’d broken in and he didn’t do it well. 

When he got to a hotel he laid on the bed and slept, happy to finally have some freedom. He would go to Harrys tomorrow and start fresh there.

-O-

John woke up and was once again surprised by his surroundings. Another white room, bare and empty bar the bed. There wasn’t a wardrobe and certainly no plastic. He tried to move but he was restrained, his arms locked down to the table and his feet trapped too. 

“What the bloody hell is going on?” He shouted, knowing someone would hear. 

“Love,” he hadn’t seen Mary when he first woke up and her voice was like daggers, piercing his body and poisoning his mind. “You tried to run away so they’ve restrained you.” She said quietly. “Where were you running to?”

“Sher...” he looked at the door, a silhouette against the frosted glass reminded him of Sherlock, on one of their last cases when he stood by the door and managed to solve the kidnapping. He looked up at Mary with hatred filling his eyes. He didn’t understand why he was here, he wasn’t insane. 

John then looked back to the window in the door, the silhouette had vanished. Maybe he was insane, he was beginning to doubt himself so he let himself relax against the bed and said nothing, just glaring at Mary.

-O-

Sherlock knocked hard on the door again, Baker Street was empty? It was never empty.

‘I’m outside, open the door. –SH’ He sent the text quickly and heard Johns phone inside. He frowned and bit his lip, John would always take his phone with him and always answer. He pushed the door open and walked in, of course Mary wouldn’t lock it during the day. 

Sherlock was quiet in his steps and as he walked up he noticed a leaflet for Rust Oaks, visiting hours circled in red. Harry had probably finally got help for her drinking.

He then looked at the notice board in the kitchen. ‘Visit John @ 11’ was written in Marys distinct scrawl. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together so he grabbed Johns phone before heading back to the door. He heard Mary and Mrs. Hudson talking and walked slowly past the door, running straight out and into the street.

He couldn’t fathom why John was in a mental institute, he couldn’t possible know what was going on and that he had put him there.

And he could certainly never guess that John was now beginning to question his own sanity.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is released, the last thing he expected was what he found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My normal beta, Ella, is MIA and so my best friend and Chelsea/Georgia is betaing this atm (blame her for any spelling mistakes) She is IvoryMeadows on this

Winter came again, the leaves fell off the trees and they were replaced with a sweet frost that filled every inch of the country. Even Rusty Oaks was feeling the cold. After John left the place was boring for the other residents, John was the lively one that made them all smile, to see him was always fun. When John left a little part of all the residents went with him.

He had now been in solitary for 2 months. He was leaning against the wall when the door opened and he looked up to meet the soft brown eyes of his wife. He kept silent, as he had been since he was first moved to this place. His arms were bound to himself and the walls were soft.

“John, you’re coming with me, they’ve allowed you the right to come home, they think that you’re getting better.” She said, a softly smile on her lips as she watched him, assessing his reaction.

John said nothing, he pushed himself up using the wall as support and walked to Mary’s side. When he was changed back into normal clothes he took Mary’s hand, walking out with him into the cold. They arrived at Baker Street in no time and still John had said nothing. He went to bed early that night and every night, not speaking to anyone until spring had finally rolled around. 

Spring, for John, had always been fun, he’d always had something to do to occupy him. The days weren’t too hot or too cold and the way everything smelt made John happy. He was sat in Baker Street looking out of the window when Mary took his hand. “Let’s go out.” She said.

John stood up and shrugged his coat on. His silence hadn’t stopped yet but as he looked around he opened his mouth, making no sound and electing to close it again. Instead he smiled at Mary, he was slowly beginning to forgive her as he realised that maybe she’d been right to put him in there, maybe he was imagining the texts. They’d stopped now, after all. He would text Sherlock's phone and always get the same message, This phone has been disconnected, please contacts the owner or your service provider for more details. He frowned when he first saw it but decided that maybe he really was mental, and maybe he was finally getting better.

As he walked through the park with Mary he smiled at everyone, meeting their eyes as Mary chatted away. She always found something to talk about and it always surprised John how much she really did. Her job as a teacher seems boring but ever day there was something funny happening, or a fight or something she found to talk about. On the weekend she would marking and she would point out what’s wrong, what words were spelt wrong.

“So, me and the kids on Thursday were doing about the planets, the school has these blow up planets for us to use and Tommy, bless his heart, he’d blown up three of them and named them as he did so. He then turned me and said, ‘Can I stop now? My lips hurt from blowing up Uranus’ And all the kids laughed.” Mary giggled and held tight onto Johns hand as he chuckled. “Want to go Angelos for dinner tonight?” she asked.

John nodded and sat down on a bench, stretching his legs as he leaned back and pulled Mary in to a tight hug.

“I like Spring too.” She sighed.

John gave her a questioning look, how did she know what he was thinking?

“Come on, John, it doesn’t take a genius to work it out. I asked if you wanted to come out a few weeks ago and you kept saying no, right now you have a goofy grin saying that you love this, you hate being outside at the moment so it must be the season.” She grinned, proud of what she’d said as he nodded and smiled.

It all reminded him too much of Sherlock and he bit his lip as he looked away, seeing a mess of black curls as they rounded a corner out of sight. John stood up again with Mary and started walking towards them. She smiled up at him and walked beside him, speeding up as he did. “Where are we going?” She asked, looking ahead of them, John had never been this way before.

They followed the curls for an hour, John catching one glimpsed of his messy hair and dark coat as he turned out of sight each time. But he persevered, eventually being able to see that the man was tall, he had Sherlock's exact hair colour coat and scarf. As John stopped Mary looked around, looking behind them just as the dark haired man turned to face John.

“Sherlock...” he choked out.


End file.
